


Two, Four, Six, Eight

by dizzy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because Mav is awesome and so are cheerleaders." (Summary provided by... Mav, obviously.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two, Four, Six, Eight

**one.**

Blaine tells his parents that he’s going out and probably won’t be back until morning, that he’s going to stay with Nick (who lives closer to Lima) and if they need him they can call. 

His parents are fine with it. He’s done a good job of convincing them that he’s okay now, that Dalton has somehow healed the injuries inside like the doctors had healed the ones outside. He’s popular again, he has friends, his grades are amazing, he’s quickly becoming one of the favored leads in the show choir. He’s fine now. He _should be_ fine now. 

If maybe he fills his weekends a lot more full than he’d honestly like to just to avoid having to be at home, alone with his parents or with his thoughts, then that’s fine, too. He has fun with his friends, and he’s going to have a fun Friday night watching the Dalton football team cream the competition at McKinley High.

He stands in front of his mirror, adjusts his scarf, and makes sure his smile is perfectly in place. 

* 

It’s alway a little jarring to be back in a public school. He’s glad he doesn’t have to go inside. It’s not like McKinley holds any bad memories for him - no memories at all, actually, he’s never been here before - but they all sort of have the same feel to them. 

He likes football and the game isn’t bad. Dalton is winning, but the margin isn’t as high as it could be. Halfway through the second quarter they decide snacks are in order and Blaine gets shunted off with a pocket full of crumpled bills and a list written out on his phone of what everyone wants. 

The snack stand is nearer to the McKinley side and the line is fairly long so he turns to watch while he waits. His eyes skim past the cheerleaders, right past and then abruptly back, because-

Because...wow. 

Amidst the sea of red and white and high ponies is a guy. A really, really good looking guy, tall and regal and _powerful_ looking without actually having any bulk to him, hoisting up one of the bleached blondes in a cheer. Blaine’s mouth actually falls open the tiniest bit. 

Blaine steps out of line to watch, letting people pass around him. He can’t tear his eyes away from the guy. 

The cheerleaders break to get ready for halftime, and Blaine gets a text message asking where the food is. He wavers, not sure of how to respond, and then finally sends back another one saying he got held up but he’s on his way and gets back in line. 

* 

He’s pretty sure the guys know something is up when he takes his third ‘bathroom run’ that lasts ten minutes. 

When Thad follows him the third trip and catches him just leaning against the fence, staring moonily at the cheerleaders he knows that he’s got to endure some humiliation to come. 

He doesn’t even care. 

*

Two weeks later, he’s back at McKinley. 

He’s alone this time. He feels more than a little inconspicuous slipping into the stands on the McKinley side, but it’s worth it for the view he has. 

He wants to know the guy’s name. 

(No, he wants more than that: he wants to know his favorite color, wants to know his favorite food, what he dreams about, what he wants to do with his life, wants to know what it feels like to hold his hand and what his voice sounds like, and... he wants to know everything. But he’ll start with a name.)

He hears a few things shouted out that he can’t quite discern; he thinks once he hears Porcelain, which is actually sort of fitting. This guy has gorgeous skin. 

He gets his wish during half time; the pretty blonde that he does most of his dancing with says, “Kurt!” in a chipper voice. 

Kurt. 

His name is Kurt. 

*

For the next two months, Blaine spends every night driving back and forth between Westerville and Lima, Ohio just to see a boy named Kurt. 

 

**two.**

“Hummel, your stalker is here again,” Santana says, sashaying past. Kurt has to duck his head to avoid being whipped in the face with her ponytail. “Have you decided if you’d rather get his number or his signature on a restraining order yet? Because seriously, one of us is gonna slip and bust our ass on that drool puddle he leaves behind.” 

“Shut up, Satan.” Okay, it’s far from his best comeback, but he’s a little distracted by the implications that she’s making. 

He doesn’t doubt that the guy is here to scope out a hot cheerleader; he’s just pretty sure it isn’t him. 

*

Except that he sort of wishes it were. 

Because the guy is cute. He’s _really_ cute. 

He’s cute, and he dresses well. (Maybe a little too much gel, maybe a little too Brooks Brothers for Kurt’s own personal taste, but on this guy it works.)

He’s cute, and he’s polite. (Kurt watches him help someone’s grandmother across the well worn dirty pathway between the bleachers and the food stands. He watches as Blaine escorts her to the bleachers, then up, smiling and politely chatting with her patiently before returning to his normal spot by the fence.) 

He’s cute, and he’s not actually interested in football. (This is the part Kurt likes best; the guy obviously knows enough to know what’s going on, but he doesn’t seem to actually be that invested in who wins or loses.) 

* 

Kurt starts to take a little more care with… everything, really. 

He likes being in the Cheerios, but it hadn’t been a long-term plan. He’d wanted the chance to solo a little and he wasn’t that in Glee. That’s the sole reason he’d become part of this idiotic circus run by Sue Sylvester, but now that he’s in the fray he’s realizing that there are some benefits to it. He likes the discipline that it brings him and the focus. He likes how he can feel himself becoming stronger, baby fat disappearing and lean muscle taking its place.

If the mystery guy is just a little more motivation to dedicate himself… well, everyone needs a source of inspiration. It’s not like he expects anything to actually happen. He’ll probably show up with a girlfriend any day now. 

 

**three.**

The McKinley football team isn’t actually that great. 

Blaine doesn’t think they’re going to have a drawn out season. In fact, he’s pretty sure that soon he’s going to have to get creative if he wants to actually make a move to meet Kurt unless he wants their shared time together to meet the same sad fate as the football team. 

*

He starts by talking to one of the other cheerleaders. He’s already sort of terrified of the bossy brunette one that stares daggers at anyone that looks at her twice. He makes sure not to look at her twice for that reason. 

The blonde seems friendly enough, though. She has sort of a dazed look on her face but she’s nice and when he says he likes their routine, her face lights up in a genuine way. 

The next time he sees her, he waves again. She stops and talks to him. Her name is Brittany and when he shares his m&ms with her, it feels like the start of a beautiful friendship. 

*

Two weeks later, he and Brittany are on a friendly first name basis. He tells her that he goes to Dalton and he’s in the Warblers. She’s delighted; she’s in her school’s Glee club, too. She says she’ll look for him at sectionals. 

He thinks he’s being sneaky when he works a comment about male cheerleaders into the conversation but she just giggles and winks at him when she says, “Kurt is special. He’s our unicorn. Have you heard him sing?” 

Blaine is pretty sure the McKinley mascot isn’t a unicorn, so he really has no clue what Brittany is talking about. “No, I haven’t. He sings?” 

“Stick around, Blaine Warbler. Our unicorn sings like magic.” 

*

She’s right. 

He does sing like magic. 

If it’s even possible, Blaine falls a little bit more in love. 

*

Somewhere around the midway point of the halftime routine, with Kurt belting out Lady Gaga while the cheerleaders prance around him, Blaine knows he’s gaping. He knows that no one looking at him would mistake his gawking for. 

And lots of people are looking. Once the routine is over and the cheerleaders are filing off the field, Blaine realizes that blonde cheerleader is saying something loudly to Kurt. 

Kurt looks his way, turns red, and then stalks off. 

Blaine’s stomach sinks. 

 

**four.**

Then one Friday during the halftime show, Kurt falls. 

It’s not a nice fall. It’s not a pretty fall. He’s left with blood seeping through the already cherry red track pants, stickyhot and disgusting along his calf. 

Coach Sylvester waves him off the field, more concerned with getting someone else into his spot than anything else. 

It’s already dark, and he’s not looking forward to limping to the Cheerios practice space where the first aid supplies are kept in light that will dwindle the more distance he has from the floodlights. Things tend to jump out at him in the dark. Large, homophobic, occasionally blunt object wielding things. Things that like to see him in dumpsters, covered in day of lunch room offerings and slushies. Sometimes both. 

At least most of the actual football players are on the field right now. 

“Do you need help?” A voice calls out. 

Kurt jumps and then spins around, almost losing his balance when his knee buckles. A hand reaches out to grab him, steadying him with a firm grip. 

It’s the guy, eyebrows drawn together in concern. The guy that stares at them while they cheer. The guy that Brittany keeps trying to talk about, though Kurt shuts him down every time. 

Brittany is too sweet. Too sweet to realize that this guy is probably hitting on her. Probably? Definitely. He’s too gorgeous to be anything but straight considering that this is Lima, Ohio. Things like that don’t happen to Kurt.

But wow, he is even better looking up close. 

“I’m Blaine,” Mr. Perfectly Gorgeous says. “And you look... like you need some help.” 

Kurt nods breathlessly. “Are you sure... you’ll miss the show. Brittany has a great dance routine during the next number.” 

“Does she? That’s nice.” Blaine doesn’t even glance behind him. He has a little smile on his face, sort of amused. “But I don’t think I’m missing much if you’re not out there.” 

Kurt’s knees buckle again, but for an entirely different reason this time. 

*

Blaine has no clue what makes him flirt, except the way Kurt blushes and stumbles and his voice is sort of amazing and Blaine doesn’t want to stereotype but he looks at Blaine like Blaine makes him nervous, and he’s a cheerleader and a guy, and Blaine will probably already be heartbroken if this guy isn’t actually gay. 

He wishes now he’d worked up the nerve to just ask Brittany when he’d been talking to her. But he hadn’t, so all he can do is make an educated guess and try not to make a fool out of himself. 

He keeps a hand on Kurt’s arm but has no idea where they’re actually going, so he lets Kurt lead the way. The room is dark when they first walk in, but Kurt flips the light switch. 

“Sit,” Blaine insists gently, risking a smile. “Just tell me what to do.” 

“Uh. Oh.” Kurt’s tongue darts out to dampen his lips, and then he explains where the first aid kits are. “But I can really-” 

“No, please. Let me,” Blaine says. 

He’s not happy that Kurt’s injured, but he has to admit part of him sort of likes getting to swoop in and play white knight like this. He likes the way Kurt’s eyes are following him across the room. 

He uses the water station along the wall to dampen a hand full of napkins. When he turns back around, Kurt is easing the leg of his uniform up. “Oh, f...” 

“Oh, wow.” Blaine blanches momentarily. “You should probably get out of those pants.”

And then both stop, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at each other. 

“Change!” Blaine blurts out. “I mean. Do you have some to change into? Because it would be-” 

“Yes, I do,” Kurt blessedly cuts him off. “I’ll be right back, I’ve got shorts I practice in.” 

* 

They’re not just shorts. They’re _short_. They’re really… short… shorts. 

Blaine finds breathing just a little bit harder as he kneels in front of Kurt’s bared, bloodied knee. Kurt tries again to insist he can handle it himself but Blaine won’t even consider it. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs with an apologetic smile, before dousing it in bubbly peroxide. Kurt winces and his lips make a tight line but he doesn’t make a sound. “This might hurt a little.”

“I’ve had worse,” he finally says. 

Blaine frowns again at that. “What?” 

“Oh. Nothing.” Kurt waves the comment off. “Why are you here?” 

The question is blunt enough to completely catch Blaine off guard. “I... uh.” 

He knows he’s blushing, but hopefully Kurt doesn’t know that. He’s thankful for a slightly darker complexion and 

“The halftime show is really great,” he finally says, looking very intently at Kurt’s knee as he grabs a fresh napkin to wipe up some more of the drying blood. 

“The halftime show... that you’re missing right now.” Kurt says slowly, and carefully. 

“Uh.” Blaine glances up, guiltily. “Well, I enjoy one part of it, specifically.” 

Their eyes meet and this is the point at which Kurt should ask. Blaine’s heart pounds and his pulse races and he sort of wants this over, wants Kurt to just say it, voice the question obviously in his mind. 

But he doesn’t say anything. 

* 

“Are you going back out there?” Blaine asks. Kurt’s knee is bandaged, already showing mottled bruising to come and swollen slightly. 

Kurt shakes his head. “Coach Sylvester won’t want me around if I can’t cheer. In fact, she’ll just come up with new and creative ways that this was my fault. I’ll just skip the lecture tonight, I’m sure there will be a matinee performance tomorrow.” 

Kurt’s funny. Kurt’s funny in a dry, sarcastic way. He’s gorgeous, and talented, and bendy, and perfect, and funny. _And he sings._

“But you can catch the second half of the game,” Kurt says. “I’m sure you’re just dying to know who wins.” 

“I’m not even sure who is playing,” Blaine admits. “Wait, can you drive with your leg like that?” 

“I’ll manage,” Kurt says, obviously surprised by the question. 

“No way, I’m not letting you drive like that.” Blaine frowns. 

“So you think I’m safer getting into a car with a complete stranger?” Kurt asks, crossing his arms. “No, thank you. You might have dreamy eyes but you could still drive me to the edge of town and leave my body somewhere it won’t be discovered for weeks.” 

Blaine grins. “Dreamy eyes?” 

“Oh my god.” Kurt covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry-” 

“You have an amazing voice.” Blaine tugs Kurt’s hand away from his eyes. “There, we’re even.” 

The flush on Kurt’s face is stupidly endearing. “Who _are_ you?” 

“Blaine Anderson. I go to Dalton Academy. I’m a member of the Warblers, I love to sing, I play four instruments, and I’d really like to know if you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night.” 

Kurt gapes at him. “You’re asking me out on a date?” 

“Yeah, I mean - crap, you are gay, right? Oh, God, you’re not, are you? I’m so sorry-” 

“Blaine.” Kurt cuts him off with just the bite of his name. “Calm down. I’m gay.”

“Oh.” Blaine takes a breath. “Okay, so...” 

“So, what?” 

“... do you want to go out with me?” Blaine asks again, since Kurt seems to have forgotten the question. He wants to wince at how meek his voice sounds. 

“Why?” Kurt asks. He’s looking at Blaine like Blaine has suddenly grown another head. 

“What?”

“Why do you want to go out with me? Is this some... joke?” He stiffens and looks around nervously. 

“Wow, no. No, it’s not. You’re just - you’re really... uh, you’re really attractive, and I just... want to get to know you.” It comes out a little more like a question than the declaration Blaine intends it to me. “But if you’re not interested-” 

“I am,” Kurt says quickly. “I am interested.” 

Blaine beams at him. “Awesome. That’s… awesome.” 

They stare at each other for a minute, both trying hard not to smile. 

* 

Ten minutes later, Blaine is on his way back to Westerville. 

He doesn’t feel the need to stay for the rest of the game. Kurt’s in his own car, on his way home – promising to text Blaine to let him know that he made it home, despite his obviously life threatening injuries. 

And he can make good on that promise because he now has Blaine’s number stored in his contacts. And even better, Blaine has Kurt’s number, too. 

His number, and a date. 

He’s willing to call this one a success. 

 

**five.**

This is a disaster. 

Blaine’s favorite cardigan, the one he could have sworn was in the last load of laundry that he’d done, has a huge stain on the bottom edge. His mother comes up with half a dozen chores for him to do and he can probably get away with saving a few for the next day but he has to make some effort or they’ll start to look at him a little too closely and the last thing in the world Blaine wants right now is to tell his mother and father that he has a date with a boy. So he throws in the laundry fearing it won’t be dry in time, rushes through the dishes and taking the trash out, and then goes to shower… only when he gets out of the shower he realizes that he’s out of hair gel. 

His heart starts to pound. Is this an omen?

He gives in to the urge and sends Kurt a texts asking if they’re still on. 

Kurt responds confirming that they are almost immediately, which soothes Blaine’s nerves a little bit. 

Omens are ridiculous, anyway – and they’re all relatively minor incidents. He just wants tonight to go smoothly. 

But the laundry finishes in time, his mother doesn’t press him on the chores, and he leaves early enough to stop in and buy hair gel. He frowns intently at his reflection in the his rearview mirror, making sure not a single strand is defiantly curling out of place, and then drives to Breadstix as the butterflies in his stomach intensify. 

* 

They meet in front of the restaurant. 

Kurt looks amazing. 

Blaine feels like he got dressed in the dark next to him, but luckily Kurt seems charmed by the bowtie. 

They bond over Vogue while they wait on appetizers. 

They laugh over Glee club song sets while they wait on entrees. 

The conversation turns maudlin as they discuss being gay in high school, and then Kurt demands cheesecake… and refuses to share, but that’s all right, because Blaine kind of prefers the lava cake anyway. 

Kurt says he likes that; less competition. 

Blaine doesn’t say that even if cheesecake were his favorite thing in the world, he’d probably happily hand over every bite so Kurt makes that mmm-ing noise when the flavor hits his tongue. 

Blaine doesn’t tell Kurt that this is his first real date. Kurt doesn’t say the same thing, either, but Blaine things by the end of the evening they’ve both come to those conclusions independently. His first date. People don’t forget those, but it’s not his own memories Blaine’s concerned about.   
It’s both reassuring and slightly terrifying that Kurt will have this impression of him linked to something he’ll carry with him forever. 

He wonders if Kurt has ever been kissed before. 

So that, of all things, is what he does ask. 

* 

“No, never,” Kurt answers, breathless. 

His eyes are wide and Blaine is pretty sure he’s not misreading the fact that Kurt wouldn’t mind that changing. 

Still, he doesn’t want to be that guy. He doesn’t want to steal a memory Kurt doesn’t want to give. “Would you mind if I…” 

“God no.” There’s a soft red flush high on Kurt’s cheeks. 

Blaine cups one of them and leans in, pressing their mouths gently together. He keeps it chaste and he’s going to pull back but Kurt surges forward and then it’s not so chaste. Kurt’s tongue licks at his bottom lip and Blaine opens to him, lets Kurt take the lead. 

(Should he even be surprised? Kurt’s personality was forward, forceful enough to make Blaine keep at the knees before he even knew his name.)

Somehow within ten minutes Blaine ends up with his back to Kurt’s Navigator and Kurt’s tongue in his mouth. It’s not really what he’d been planning, but plans are overrated. It’s only the sound of footsteps and a noisy family conversing without care that pry them apart, both of them shocked by the reminder of reality. 

“I should go,” Blaine says, regretful. “I have curfew.” 

He’s actually already going to be late, but he doesn’t think his parents will care. They probably won’t even notice. He can just say he was out with friends and lost track of time. 

Even if they do care, it’s been worth it. 

* 

He texts Kurt that night to thank him for a pleasant evening. 

Somehow one text turns into four hours of conversation, continuing like they’d never had a pause after dinner. Neither of them refer to the kiss (kisses) but Blaine still tingles all over when he remembers the wet slide of lips against lips, and how Kurt’s hands felt resting on Blaine’s waist. 

He bites his lip and pumps his fist into the air when the message comes from Kurt asking for a second date. 

 

**six.**

They keep texting through the week. 

On Monday night, they talk on the phone for the first time. It starts out stilted but quickly warms into comfortable and the time sort of just flies by until Kurt has to go because his dad wants him for dinner. 

On Tuesday, they talk again, twice. The first time is more brief but Kurt calls him back after dinner. He sounds a little more reserved than he has before, like something is upsetting him, but Blaine isn’t sure that it’s really his place to ask yet. (Yet.)

On Wednesday, Blaine sends Kurt a facebook friend request. (All of Wednesday night is spent pouring through years worth of pictures, staring moonily as he witnesses in slideshow format Kurt’s growth from adorably chubby cheeked junior high student to his current reigning cheerleader extraordinaire status. 

On Thursday, Kurt asks to see Blaine sing so Blaine sends him a link to the Warblers youtube channel. He spends almost two hours getting a steady stream of commentary in both phone call and later text form. It’s mildly humiliating except for the part where Kurt seems to genuinely think he’s talented. 

On Friday, Blaine realizes from Kurt’s texts asking him what he’s doing that night that Kurt doesn’t think he’s going to be at the game. This realization comes halfway through his drive to Lima. 

It’s more of a fib than a lie when he tells Kurt that he’s not sure what he’s doing, but he thinks it’ll be worth it. 

*

Definitely worth it. Kurt’s eyes widen and his face lights up when he spots Blaine. He doesn’t miss a beat in the cheer – though it’s one of their more standard ones, so that probably helps. 

Kurt makes a beeline straight for the fence where Blaine watches from the first time the Cheerios break. “Hi,” he says, breathless and smiling, slightly out of breath from performing. 

“Hi,” Blaine says back, knowing the smile he’s giving Kurt back is dopey and not really caring much. “So, I decided what I wanted to do tonight.” 

“Oh, did you?” Kurt plays coy. 

“Yeah, I wanted to come visit this cute cheerleader I’ve had a crush on for a while… see if maybe he wants to go grab some food after the game?” 

God, it’s so cute when Kurt blushes. “Well, I can ask him for you.” Kurt glances back over his shoulder like he’s looking around. “Which one is he?” 

“Silly.” Blaine reaches out and snags Kurt’s hand. 

Kurt jerks it back. Blaine is stunned, and sort of hurt. 

“No, I’m sorry, I just – not here.” 

“Do you… want me to go?” Blaine asks. He has no idea what’s going on. 

“No, don’t!” The cheerleading coach is calling them back onto the field. “Stay, please – I’ll explain later? But don’t go. I… I would love to get dinner with you after the game. Just stick around, I’ll need to shower and change first.” 

“Of course,” Blaine says. 

* 

He doesn’t pay any attention to the rest of the game. He’s too busy trying to figure out Kurt. Luckily, the McKinley team suffers a crushing defeat that isn’t drawn out too long. 

Blaine watches the cheerleaders disappear into the building and then slowly within a few minutes they start to emerge in pairs and groups. 

Kurt doesn’t come out. 

When he sees Brittany, Blaine waves her down. “Hey, where’s Kurt?” 

Brittany gives him a huge grin and turns to the girl beside her. “Santana! I told you!” 

The girl – Santana – gives him an appraising look. “Damn, is someone finally riding our little unicorn?” 

Blaine still isn’t sure what that means, but he still gets the implication there. “Kurt and I are just-“ 

“Santana, they’re gonna make pretty gay babies,” Brittany says happily. “I bet the stork brings them in a rainbow blanket.” 

Santana just laughs. “I bets you’re right, Brit. Come on or we’re gonna be later for the party.” 

Brittany gives Blaine a big hug. “Kurt should be out soon. Once he’s done talking to the football guys.” 

A grim look passes Santana’s face and she turns. For a second Blaine thinks she’s going to go back inside, but then she sighs and looks at him. “You might want to go rescue your unicorn, stalker.” 

Rescue? 

* 

Blaine heads inside, following the same path he’d taken when he’d been helping Kurt the week before. 

He finds Kurt being slammed against a locker with two football players twice his size berating him. Kurt is just… well, taking it is the wrong word, because there’s sort of a detached defiance to his stance, like he knows he’s better than this so he’s just patiently letting them shout it out of their system. 

Blaine’s known that feeling before, though, and he knows how awful it is. He charges forward even though there’s really no way he can take these guys – he’s smaller than Kurt, really. But sometimes he doesn’t really think things through. 

“Leave him alone!” He calls out. 

“Blaine!” Kurt sounds panicked. 

“Oh, look, it’s the little fag that queerboy here was holding hands with.” The bigger of the guys advances toward him and Blaine feels that surge of sudden terror. It’s going to happen again, oh god, it’s happening-

He actually shuts his eyes. 

Nothing happens except a shout and a thud. 

* 

Kurt has pushed one of the guys down. 

It hadn’t taken much force, since the guy had his back to Kurt. It’s enough of a surprise for Kurt to burst past him and grab Blaine’s hand, though. “Run,” Kurt says, so Blaine runs. 

 

**seven.**

They don’t talk until they’re in the car. 

Kurt drives and it takes a couple of minutes for Blaine to even think to ask where they’re going. 

“My house,” Kurt says. 

He doesn’t add _because they can’t follow me there._

He doesn’t add _because it’s the only place I feel safe sometimes._

He doesn’t add _because they almost hurt you and somehow that’s worse than them actually hurting me and I’ve never been so scared of this school._

He just drives. 

 

**eight.**

Kurt’s room is… not the room of your average teenage boy. Blaine wouldn’t have really expected it to be, though. 

Kurt’s room seems perfectly suited to Kurt. And inside that room, Kurt seems to come back to himself. 

Blaine sits on the bed and looks around. There aren’t many pictures – one framed photo of a beautiful woman and a little boy that Blaine is pretty sure is Kurt. He doesn’t ask. 

What he says is, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Kurt admits, sitting beside him. “I hate nights like tonight.” 

“It’s because they saw me grab your hand, isn’t it? That’s why you flipped out?” 

Kurt nods and looks away. “I understand if you want to go.” 

“What?” Blaine is shocked that Kurt would think that. “No. No, Kurt, God – no. That just makes me want to stay even more.” 

Kurt gives him a disbelieving look. 

“Trust me,” Blaine says. “I’ve been through… similar.” 

He doesn’t want to say worse, because doesn’t want to turn it into a competition of miseries. This might only scratch the surface with Kurt. 

“I’m the only out kid at my school,” Kurt admits. 

“I had to transfer to a school with a strict zero tolerance policy of bullying after I got my ass kicked at my previous school.” Blaine has never just come right out and said it like that. It’s sort of refreshing, actually. 

He lays back on Kurt’s bed. He knows it might be a little bit forward, but he does it anyway. “Come here.” 

Kurt lies down beside him and lets Blaine fold him into an embrace. They lay there together, just listening to each other breathe, for a while. “Are you hungry?” Blaine asks. “I’ll still take you out to dinner.” 

“No,” Kurt says. He puts a hand on Blaine’s chest, like that’ll keep him there. “I like this.” 

Blaine kisses his forehead. 

Kurt tips his head up and looks at Blaine’s mouth. 

Blaine can take the hint. He gives Kurt a real kiss this time. “I like you,” he says. 

Kurt flushes and smiles and tucks his head back down against Blaine’s shoulder. “As much as you like football?” He teases. 

Blaine laughs. “More.”

“Well, that’s certainly flattering, considering you drove two hours every week to see a football game.” Kurt’s hand starts to move over his chest, fingertips tracing patterns. 

It starts to have an effect on Blaine, the predictable sort that happens when a boy he likes is touching him. Blaine grabs the hand to still it and when Kurt looks at him Blaine kisses him again, deeper. 

Just like before, as soon as Blaine has opened the door to this, Kurt charges ahead.

* 

They might both be pretty new at it, but Blaine feels confident in the assumption that experience be damned, they’re both fairly spectacular kissers. 

Kissing in a bed is so much better than kissing outside, against a car. Not that it wasn’t nice before… but no, nothing like this. Kurt’s body is warm over Blaine’s, stretched out on top of him while Kurt supports his weight on his forearms. Their mouths meet and part and meet again, drawing sounds out that neither of them are fully aware of making. Kurt can’t really touch Blaine like this, but Blaine makes up for it with wandering hands that move under the shirt Kurt is wearing to feel the bare smooth skin of his back. The first time his fingertips pass over Kurt’s shoulder blades, Kurt’s hips jerk against Blaine’s. 

Oh god Kurt is hard, and so is Blaine – has been since they laid down practically, as embarrassing as that is. He isn’t sure if he has the willpower to stop this if Kurt isn’t… 

Then Kurt is stopping, and abruptly, because his bedroom door is opening. 

“Uh. Kurt?” 

“Dad!” Kurt rolls off of Blaine, sitting up and straightening his shirt like he hasn’t just been caught making out by his dad. Blaine sits up too, and folds his hands in his lap, because a pillow would just be way too obvious. 

“You, uh… you got a friend over, kid?” Kurt’s father asks gruffly, looking Blaine over. 

“Dad, this is Blaine.” 

“Right.” Kurt’s dad ignores the hand that Blaine holds out to him. “Well, how about you and Blaine come downstairs if you want to hang out?” 

“Dad-“ 

“It’s okay, Kurt. I should probably be leaving, anyway. I have a long drive back and my parents will expect me in by curfew.” 

Kurt’s face falls. “Oh. All right.” 

Kurt’s father doesn’t leave the doorway until Blaine and Kurt are both headed toward the front door. 

“He’s not always like that,” Kurt promises. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Blaine is not entirely convinced. “He doesn’t own a shotgun, does he?”

Kurt smiles and leans forward to press a kiss to Blaine’s mouth. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

Blaine already knows he’s willing to be free pretty much any time Kurt wants him to, if it turns into another makeout session like that. “I am. Do you want me to come back?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I think it’s time I see some of Westerville, don’t you think? The next date was supposed to be on me, anyway…” 

Blaine slips his arms around Kurt and hugs him in tightly. “That sounds perfect.”

“Do you have bluetooth?” Kurt asks. Blaine nods. “Good. Let me talk to my dad, and then I’ll call you and let you know what time.” 

They kiss again until the curtain behind them parts and Blaine can practically feel the weight of a fatherly glare trying to will their mouths apart. “Okay. You.. go make sure he’s not gonna kill me.” 

“And you drive safely, because I want my date for tomorrow in one piece.” 

Kurt stays on the porch watching him until Blaine’s car backs out of the driveway. He knows it’ll be a few minutes at least before Kurt calls so he cranks up his radio and sings along. The night didn’t go in the least bit how he’d planned, but somehow he still feels better than he has in months.


End file.
